


Family Resemblance

by Madame de flammes (owlaholic68)



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Gen, Harriett and Lucy, Historical References, Implied Sexual Content, Siblings, Stalking, Swearing, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/Madame%20de%20flammes
Summary: Three demonic siblings through the years.





	1. Jacques

**Mediterranean countryside, Middle Roman Empire**

Jacques fumes all the way to the Lawkeeper’s office of this agricultural village in the middle of fucking nowhere. A strongly worded condescending letter from his boss was not something he wanted to receive in the middle of a Senate meeting. And now he has to be _here. _

He storms through the arch of the humble Law building and stomps up to the guard in charge.

“Good evening,” the guard says. Head guard, by the looks of it. Though there probably aren’t more than a few officials anyway. “What can I do for you today, Sir?”

“A woman was recently arrested for disorderly conduct.” Jacques sighs and remembers the story he’d concocted on the way here. “I’m afraid it’s all simply a misunderstanding; my sister has been unwell lately and I would like to negotiate for her release.”

The guard looks unimpressed. “Unwell? She burned down four store-barns, released several livestock, brawled with Lawkeepers, and killed two people with her negligence. Who are you to decide that she should go free without punishment?”

Technically Jacques is Lucy’s boss, but right now he’s playing the part of concerned and exasperated brother. Also, he’s playing the part of someone influential. “I am Senator Revel. I counsel in the law, and I know well its twists and turns.”

The guard’s eyebrows raise at the mention of his status. “Oh, well you see-”

“My dear sister has unexpected fits of violence,” Jacques interrupts. “She will be reprimanded at home, and I have a mind to take her to the city so perhaps she can gain enjoyment from the entertainment available to her there. After the death of our parents, I’m afraid she was never the same. I have tried to attend to her needs best I can, but I have found myself overwhelmed. You can understand, I’m sure. I can guarantee that she will not further harm your _lovely _community.”

To lend weight to his argument, Jacques smiles. “May the Gods look favorably upon your mercy and understanding, even in such difficult times as these.” He reaches into the pocket of his heavy toga and deposits a ridiculous amount of money on the table. Another fake sunny smile.

“Um, well, I’m sure she’s learned her lesson,” the head guard stutters. A village Law office like this could use the extra funds for upkeep and wages. “I can release her into your care, Senator.”

He goes into the back and unlocks the cell. He drags out a woman a bit shorter than Jacques with rumpled wavy brown hair that falls to her shoulders. Her long tunic is torn and singed at the ends, and her arms are still covered in dried blood. They must have confiscated the weaponry that she surely had, but at least she has an appearance that looks similar enough to Jacques’ to pass them off as siblings. They’d never met on Earth, so Jacques only had passing knowledge of what she’d chosen to look like down here.

“Lucy!” Jacques exclaims, extending a hand to her to take. There’s confusion in her eyes: she hasn’t recognized him yet. Good, that means he’s disguised his demonic nature well. “I came as soon as I was notified, you poor thing! Worrying your dear brother like that!” He takes her arm when she doesn’t move, giving the guard an apologetic glance. “Confusion is common too,” he whispers. “Come along, Lucy. I have a cart waiting to take us back to the city.”

She lets herself be dragged along until they’re out the door.

“Who the fuck are you?” She snaps, yanking her arm out his grip when they’re out of sight.

“Not even a thank you for the trouble?”

“Fuck off,” she retorts.

“Hell of a way to talk to your boss.” Jacques grabs her arm again and drags her towards the main street. He shoves her into a covered cart and climbs in himself, giving instruction to their hired driver to start on their way back to Rome.

There’s recognition in her eyes now. “Jacques? What are you doing here?”

“Getting _you _out of trouble. _My _boss sent me an informal reprimand for letting one of my direct subordinates get so out of hand, and to let themselves get caught and thrown in jail! What the fuck have you to say for yourself, Lucy?”

She crosses her arms. “Things got chaotic. More than usual, more than I could control and keep track of. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not. We might not get so lucky with an easily-bribable guard next time. Be more careful.”

“I will.” Lucy sighs. “Also, siblings? _That’s _the best cover story you’ve got?”

“What? We look kind of similar. Besides, I won’t be any good at pretending to be any woman’s husband, I don’t look old enough to be your father, and people would wonder about a strange man and an unmarried woman being seen together.”

“Hm. You’re the older sibling for sure.”

“That’s accurate, if it were true.” Jacques glares out the window for the rest of their long ride back to the capitol.

* * *

**Japan, early Edo period**

Jacques is once again in the middle of nowhere. Japan is a fine country, but he could be in Tokyo or Kyoto instead of on top of a mountain looking for his missing employee.

And there’s nothing wrong with mountains either. But this is an ugly mountain, not Mount Fuji or Mount Haku. This is a piece of shit winding trail to nowhere. The only indication that there is actually a village up here are a few signs pointing him in the right direction.

Finally, as the sun is sinking into the mountainous horizon, Jacques reaches a small village. It’s no more than a collection of buildings, a rich man’s countryside manor, a temple, and a tiny shrine. He ignores stares at his obviously foreign appearance and obtains directions to the local temple.

“I heard that you have a problem with a spirit,” he says when asked why he made this journey. He makes sure to use an appropriate word to describe an entity that is not particularly dangerous but is still bothersome. “I specialize in taking care of these sorts of problems.”

Apparently the rumors he had heard of this temple’s problems were correct, as they seem happy to have the help, strange as it may be. Jacques gets set up in a guest room. He sits on the soft futon and sets up some basic equipment to send a magical signal to the nearby area. If the person who is here is who he thinks it is, they’ll receive his message.

Hours go by. Jacques doesn’t need to sleep, so he doesn’t.

At a few hours past midnight, a shadow flashes past the paper sliding door that leads to outside. Jacques slides open the door and peers out into the dark night. At first he doesn’t see anything out of place. Then a small bird at his feet coos.

“Doves that look like you are uncommon in these parts,” Jacques mutters to the bird in French. It cocks its head and hops through Jacques’ legs into the room. Jacques sighs and closes the door.

When he turns, there’s a woman standing in his room instead of a bird. She’s taller than Jacques with long hair the color of condensed moonlight and steely blue eyes. Jacques has never met Harriett before on Earth and has to admit that it’s a bit unnerving. It works for her.

“What are you doing here, Jacques?” She asks.

“Looking for you.” He gestures to the low table and cushions. “Sit down, Harriett. We need to debrief.”

“Fine.” Harriett kneels on a cushion. She’s dressed in local style, though simply and practically. Barefoot instead of wearing sandals or wooden _geta. _Her long mass of hair is piled on top of her head, affixed with several pins and small ornaments to keep it off her neck.

Jacques sits too. He’s dressed halfway been an artisan and a Lord’s official. Nice enough to garner respect despite his obvious foreigner status, but humble enough to blend in when necessary.

“You missed a check-in by a month,” Jacques starts. “We gave it another month as human time can be difficult to keep track of. Then I was dispatched to find you in the event that you had run into trouble.”

“Well, I’m fine. Obviously.”

“Really?” Jacques frowns. “You are diligent, Harriett. I have not known you to lose track of time so severely. And you have been on this mission for longer than expected. Normally I don’t mind as long as you obtain results in the end, but it is worrying.”

Harriett scowls. “Everything’s fine.”

Jacques isn’t fooled. “Your only mission was to assassinate the local Lord and make it seem like an inside job to create significant unrest in the area. Your side task was to disturb operations at this temple, since it is a politically powerful one. I’d say you’ve accomplished the latter, but as far as I know the Lord still lives. Any problems?”

“Lots of problems.” She sighs. “So many problems, Jacques. Well-guarded, well-protected, and his proximity to the shrine means they’ve constructed some rudimentary magical protections. Not enough to completely stop or harm me, but enough to make things complicated.”

“Hm.” He thinks. “Well, since I made the trek all the way out here to find you, I might as well give you a hand. I can create a distraction or use diplomacy to get us in peacefully.”

“Get us both in?” Harriett looks skeptical. “And what reason could you come up with for both of us foreigners to be in the middle of nowhere in Japan?”

Jacques stands and paces the room. “Let’s say that you, my dear sister, suffered an accident several years ago and you have been spiritually disturbed since. I have taken you travelling to ease your mind and try to find an explanation for your odd behavior and unexplainable powers. We heard the temple might have answers and decided to pay our respects to the local Lord while we were here.”

“Sister?” Harriett chuckles. “Jacques, no offense, but we don’t look the slightest bit alike.”

“The accident also changed your appearance,” Jacques explains. “You used to have hair like mine, but the shock and fright of the whole thing made your hair turn white. And we can alter your eye color and face shape so at least you more closely resemble me.”

Harriett stands too. “You know, it’s actually not a bad idea, plus it’ll give me an excuse when we’re inside to break away for a few moments. That’ll be all the time I need to plant my evidence and do my business.”

“We’ll put the plan into motion tomorrow morning, then. In the meantime, you’d best start preparing what you’ll need.”

She heads for the door. “I will, Jacques.” She clears her throat. “I mean I will, brother.”


	2. Harriett

**Versailles, the reign of Louis XIV**

“Please wait in here with your sister, Mademoiselle.” A servant waves Harriett into a small waiting room, one of many in this lavish building among other equally opulent buildings. Harriett feels stiff and surly among this splendor. Everything is too polished and impersonal, all of the architecture too flat and expansive.

Nowhere to hide. Too many people looking at her.

When she enters the waiting room, there’s already someone in there. Lucy turns from the fireplace too quickly, shoving something in her pocket. “Ah, Harriett dear, you’ve arrived!”

Harriett has worked with Lucy a dozen times now, though usually not in diplomatic settings. Joint operations that required stealth but also a bloody massacre at the end, that sort of thing. Lucy’s not bad to work with. She’s deadly with a weapon in her hands and she’s quick enough to keep up with Harriett. Enjoys the fun side of their job, doesn’t hesitate to put a little more powder in the cannon to make a bigger bang.

“Good morning, Lucy.” Harriett kisses her on both cheeks as was local tradition. “What on earth are you up to in here?”

Lucy pouts and withdraws a full handful of gunpowder as well as some other bric-a-brac from her pocket. Speak of the devil… “Trying to get this to light up, but severely delayed so it won’t be traced back to us. I got _bored _waiting for you all to show up!”

“Hm.” Harriett takes the powder and gets to work. She’s good at this more delicate planning. While she works, she surveys the outfit that Lucy has cooked up for this important Court introduction.

Lucy’s shoulder-length brown hair has been curled and pinned in an unruly style. Either that or it was neat and now it’s kind of a mess. Harriett doesn’t keep track of style: maybe that’s the fashion right now. The other woman is wearing an undergown of dried blood red and an overgown of white and gold in the English style. Low red heels and lovely sapphire earrings complete the look.

Harriett is wearing a stomacher and underskirt of the same dark red color, but her overgown is dark grey in the larger French style. It’s long enough to conceal her bare feet. The marble floor is cold and smooth. Harriett’s long white hair is left straight but whirled and pinned up in a simple style.

She finishes her work and stands just as the servant lets someone else into the room. Both Harriett and Lucy hurriedly turn away from the fireplace.

Jacques gives them a suspicious stare as he enters. He’s dressed more nicely than Harriett has ever seen him before. He’s wearing a pale bluish-grey vest and pants combination with a white jacket. His cravat matches Harriett and Lucy’s undergowns, and the embroidery on his large jacket cuffs is the same color. He’s wrangled his unmanageable fluff of dark red hair into a low ponytail with a baby blue ribbon and his glasses are polished.

“If looks could kill, everyone here would perish from the sight of us together,” Lucy slyly remarks. “Nice to see you dressed up for once, Jacques.”

“Hmph.” He crosses his arms. “You two both look guilty as Hell. What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” Harriett crosses her arms too. “Not even a ‘nice to see you too’, brother?”

His eyes narrow. “Fine, nice to see you, I guess. Show me your hands, Harriett.”

She freezes. Shit. The gunpowder. “No?”

“Harriett…”

She sighs and holds out her hands. Jacques rolls his eyes and pulls out a handkerchief, roughly wiping down her hands and getting a few stray spots from her dress too. He does the same to Lucy with the briskness and visible disappointment of a world-weary father.

“At least you both look otherwise presentable,” he grumbles. “Although I could have sworn I told you to change your hair a couple years ago, Harriett. We _are _supposed to look like we’re related.”

“Hey, I like my hair,” Harriett defends. “It’s fashionable, I think. And people think it makes me look like a ghost. It’s creepy and I’m into that. I’m not going to change my whole style just because you want me to.”

“Yeah, but we can’t pretend to be siblings if we don’t look even remotely fucking similar!” Jacques throws his hands up. “Lucy and I both have brownish hair. Mine is curly, hers is wavy enough to look genetically close. We both have blue eyes and freckles. We’re both similar heights and builds. You look like the weird albino giraffe cousin, Harriett!”

Harriett sneers at him. “Hey, I have blue eyes and freckles too! I’m not changing, Jacques, so deal with it! It’s always your dumb idea-”

A polite cough at the door interrupts their very sibling-like fight. A servant is waiting to take them to the Court hall. Jacques leaves their argument as a lingering glare as he takes point with Lucy and Harriett trailing behind them.

“We’ll be talking about this later,” Jacques mutters as they stride through the extravagant palace. “And you two best behave yourselves while we’re in there. We’ve all got business to attend to here for the next year or two at least. Don’t cause too much obvious trouble too soon.”

“Who, us?” Lucy trades a grin with Harriett.

“We’ll try our best,” Harriett adds on so Jacques doesn’t start yelling at Lucy for her impudence. “But this nice peaceful shit won’t last long with us around.”

* * *

* * *

**University of Bleston, the early 1870’s**

The University of Bleston has a lovely tall clock tower. Harriett perches right under the bell, chin resting on her folded-up knees and one arm braced on the rough brick of the tower.

It’s a lovely spring day, a rare sunny afternoon, and the university students below are frolicking like children in the grass. But she’s on the lookout for someone specific today.

There, below: Jacques is walking on the path to the library. His jacket is slung over his shoulder and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He has a leather satchel over one shoulder and a stack of books in his arms. Next to him, nearly hip-to-hip, walks another man, taller and leaner. He’s not carrying anything.

Harriett leans forward. She does not recognize this other man. And Jacques, in his letters about this dumb fucking sabbatical he was taking where he played college student for a few years, hadn’t mentioned any new friends.

She’s too far away to see them clearly. This requires further investigation.

As she’s about to transform into a bird and fly down there for a better look, the pair stops walking as they reach the library. Jacques hands over the stack of books. He gives a quick glance around him, then quickly leans in towards the other man and pecks him on the cheek before fucking _smiling _(even from this distance, she can tell) and walking away.

Harriet nearly falls off the clock tower. She needs to find out what the fuck is going on _now. _

* * *

She steals a female student’s bookbag and hat on her way into the library. Shoves the hat over her distinctive hair and slings the bag over her shoulder. She walks into the library with the confidence of another student eager to study, then slips into the tall winding aisles of dusty books.

The stacks muffle all sound. Harriett doesn’t see anyone for rows and rows. She wanders for many minutes before stumbling on an alcove hidden among the bookshelves. It’s tucked into a corner, just a large armchair and a side table.

That man that Jacques was accompanying is sitting in the chair surrounded by books and papers. He’s balancing two tomes on the arms of the chair, what looks to be a dictionary in his lap, and is fervently writing in a notebook. Taking notes, from the way he’s flipping back and forth through the books.

Harriett watches this go on for several hours. It’s the most boring stake-out she’s ever participated in, and she’s done an unusual amount of boring things in her life. At one point, the man switches to more formal paper and starts drafting an essay. It’s _riveting…_

Just before sunset, Harriett feels a familiar approach. She hides herself even better and barely avoids Jacques as he beelines through the shelves.

The man startles at Jacques’ approach, heavily absorbed in his work. He quickly pulls out a pocketwatch and checks the time.

“Oh dear,” he says. “Jacques, I’m so sorry, I completely lost track of time.” He starts closing books and shoving papers into his bag. “Dinner, I was supposed to meet you for dinner an hour ago…”

Jacques smiles. A genuine smile that Harriett has never seen before. “Don’t worry about it, James,” he says. “No, I don’t want to rush you if you have to finish something-”

“No, it’s fine,” James almost knocks over a stack of books in his haste. “I’m fine, I was all done anyways. I’m good, Jacques, really-”

“Hey.” Jacques steps closer and puts a hand on James’ chest. “Calm down, sweetheart. It’s fine, it’s honestly quite alright. How about you sit down, I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” James sets aside his bookbag and sits back in the armchair. “You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I didn’t, that’s why it’s a gift.” Jacques pulls out a small box the size of his fist. “Now close your eyes.” James closes his eyes and expectantly waits. Jacques pops open the box and withdraws a thumb-sized piece of chocolate. He climbs into James’ lap and puts the piece of candy against his lips until James opens them, then he slips the chocolate inside.

“Mm…” James’ eyes flutter as he eats it. Jacques sets aside the box and follows the candy up with a deep kiss.

If Harriett had any sense of boundaries, she definitely would have left by now. But she’s nosy, suspicious, and doesn’t give a fuck.

Jacques pulls away. “I’ll give you the rest of the box for later,” he quietly says. Smiling again. Weird: Harriett realizes she has never actually seen Jacques properly smile. “How about that dinner now? And then maybe you can come over to my place to…study.”

He helps James up from the chair and carries his books as the two of them make their way out of the library.

Harriett watches them go and is still waiting for the twist, for the betrayal, for the ‘gotcha’ moment. Jacques is not nice like this for no reason. Jacques does not bring boyfriends treats and make out with them in the backs of libraries. Jacques doesn’t even have _boyfriends, _and he’s only ever had a handful of brief lovers, one-night acquaintances who usually were seduced in the pursuit of some scheme or mission.

He is obviously being possessed or hypnotized or under some dastardly powerful spell to be acting like this. There’s no other logical explanation.

* * *

Jacques has a lovely townhouse on the edge of the University. Harriett stops by their hotel to consult with Lucy first and then heads over a few hours after midnight.

The lights are off but for the kitchen. That’ll be where Jacques is, then.

Harriett does some preliminary detection charms around the perimeter of the house to see if there’s anything amiss. Then she turns into a bird and flits through an upper story window. The house is massive for Jacques alone, and Harriett has always found it cold and unfriendly.

It’s surprisingly warm now. Harriett reaches out and feels that the radiator is on.

She sneaks into the hallway and peeks through the various rooms, but they’re all unoccupied. Studies, workrooms, a small library. She slips downstairs and into Jacques’ main bedroom. This is the warmest room. It’s dominated by a plush bed that Jacques never sleeps on. There’s also a small writing desk, a hefty dresser and a wardrobe.

Another quick detection spell. The room looks normal, but something on the bed lights up with traces of magic.

Not something, someone. Harriett hadn’t looked at the bed because she knew Jacques wouldn’t be sleeping in it, but she neglected to notice that someone else was. James is curled up under the coverlet, a colorful quilt pulled up to his chin and his head cradled in a mass of pillows. He looks peaceful and innocent but he’s covered in small magics and Harriett just _knew _that there was something-

She takes a closer look and deflates. False lead: all of the magic on him is Jacques’ work. Layers of subtle protection spells against both everyday and supernatural things. She can’t find any magic on him that is of an unfamiliar signature.

Another spell, this one far more complex. Lucy had given her a quick tutorial for its use. Harriett completes the ritual and blinks, then for a brief flash she can see _everything. _

It takes a moment for her to refocus on the slumbering James. She can see the true nature of things, though that vision is flickering and dancing in the corners of her eyes. Imperfect casting, but good enough for what she needs.

She’s disappointed in what she sees. James is one hundred percent human. Absolutely mundane. Nothing hidden, nothing being concealed either in his appearance or in his nature. She can even see his soul, and it’s bland as every other human’s on this dumb boring earth. There aren’t even any odd connections or add-ons to him.

Just a normal human being. Drat. Some other explanation, then.

Harriett’s true-sight vision wears off and she loses her balance, has to put a hand on the mattress to steady herself.

James stirs and makes a confused noise. Shit _shit shit, _light sleeper. Harriett is across the room in the shadow of the wardrobe by the time he sits up. He rubs his eyes and blinks in confusion at the dark room. Yawns and slides off the too-large bed, shivering in his pajamas.

He takes the quilt from the bed and wraps it around his shoulders, then pads out the door. Harriett follows.

“Jacques?”

From the lit-up kitchen, Jacques pokes his head into the dark hallway. “Yes, sweetheart? Everything alright?”

“Fine,” James mumbles. “Did you come get me for something?”

Jacques adjusts the quilt around James’ shoulders. “No, I didn’t. Just go back to sleep. Do you want me to turn the heat up?”

James is already shaking his head even as he shivers. “Don’t worry about it, I’m alright. I don’t want to impose upon you more than I already have.” He yawns and leans his head against Jacques’ shoulder. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“No, I’ve got work to do. I’ll be staying up a little longer.”

“Are you sure? Jacques, you haven’t slept more than a couple hours all week.”

Harriett watches from the corner of the hallway, interested. It’s true: Jacques has never been a fan of sleeping. How does he deal with that when he’s so obviously pretending to be human? Having a normal human in such close proximity to him for an extended period of time could ruin his position here.

“I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not,” James snaps. He sighs. “I’m sorry, Jacques. It’s just – you’re worrying me. With the not sleeping, barely eating, and sometimes you get into such awful trouble. You’re not taking care of yourself and it’s starting to scare me. I – I’m sorry, I’m not trying to mother you-”

Jacques silences him with a kiss. “I’m sorry, James,” he says. “I don’t mean to make you worry about me. I’m not used to people paying attention to me, and,” he swallows hard and Harriett can see the guilt on his face, “I really struggle with insomnia. I’m working on it, I promise, but I don’t like talking about it. I’ll try to work on it, for now I don’t know how much I can handle.”

“Okay.” James takes the lie easily. Jacques’ guilt sells it. “I – I can accept that for now and I’ll stop nagging you about it. Good night, Jacques.”

“Good night, sweetheart.” They kiss again and Jacques watches him go back into the bedroom.

His eyes flicker in her direction. Harriett’s stomach drops when their gazes meet. Jacques’ eyes widen, then narrow.

Lucy and Harriett hadn’t told Jacques they’d come into town early. He didn’t know they were here. And he especially didn’t know that Harriett was following him, something she absolutely _did_ _not_ have authorization to do.

He glares at her and strides over. Harriett shrinks further into the corner and swallows hard at the violence on his face. _I’m sorry, _she mouths, aware of James in the next room. He only glares more fiercely and seizes her wrist, towing her into the kitchen and closing the door behind them.

With one hand he makes a quick gesture. A bubble of silence rises around them to encompass the entire kitchen. He drops her hand and Harriett rubs the red mark he’d left with his furious grip.

“What the _fuck, _Harriett?” He shrieks. “How _dare _you follow me around! How dare you sneak into my home in the middle of the fucking night and spy on me! What in the actual Hell are you _thinking?” _

“I was thinking that you were in danger,” she defends. It’s shaky. She’s never been in serious trouble with Jacques, but she’s seen others who were.

“In danger? From what, Harriett? You’d better have a damn good explanation for this.”

She rubs her arms and sits on the kitchen counter. “I thought you were possessed or brainwashed, Jacques. You – you didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend. I thought something was wrong when I saw you with him. You weren’t acting right. I – I got _worried, _Jacques.”

His glare hardens. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh? Your dear sweetheart _James_ isn’t your boyfriend? Then why the fuck do you treat him like one?”

“He’s _not _my boyfriend,” Jacques insists. “He’s just a smash, a cute college fling. An entertaining diversion. I’m breaking up with him after graduation and then he’ll never see me again.”

“You’re lying. A fling, my ass. He sleeps at your house, you buy him gifts, and you look at him like he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You’re in deep, Jacques, and you’re just stupid trying to convince yourself otherwise.”

“Harriett…” Jacques warns. He’s standing inches away glaring up at her.

“You _love _him,” Harriett accuses.

Quick as a lightning strike, he slaps her in the face. It stings but what hurts more is the realization that she was absolutely right.

“Shut up,” he hisses, hand raised to hit her again.

“He’s gonna die before you know it,” she sneers. It’s a cruel thing to say, but she feels like countering mean with mean. “It’ll break your poor heart. Or he’ll find out what you _really _are, and then he’ll hate you. Leading him on like this is brutal, Jacques. He’s so innocent and happy, the shock of your betrayal will probably kill him. Maybe I should just tell him now and get it over with-”

“Don’t you dare!” Jacques reaches up and grabs the collar of her dress, yanking her down off the counter. “Harriett, shut the fuck up right now or I will rip out your tongue. A silent assassin is much more useful to me if all she’s going to do with that tongue is chatter and forget _who she’s talking to.” _

Harriett bites her tongue and nods. He’s done worse to others who have seriously angered him.

“Now you listen close, Harriett, because I’m only going to warn you once. Everything you did wrong tonight you will _never _do again. _Never_ follow me again. _Never _follow James either. Don’t talk to him. Don’t touch him. If you so much as look at him the wrong way, I will make you regret it. Understand?”

She nods.

Jacques lets go of her. She shakily steps back. “Good. Was Lucy in on this nonsense too?”

Harriett mutely shakes her head.

“Then fuck off, Harriett. Leave me alone. Leave _us _alone.” Jacques gestures toward the door. “You won’t have to ever see James again. Two more years and he won’t matter to either of us. So don’t concern yourself with him. Now go. I’ll see you in two days when you were _supposed _to have arrived.”

Harriett privately suspects that James will matter a whole lot to Jacques for years and years to come, no matter how much he tries to pretend he’s still heartless. But she’s not about to start arguing now that Jacques has calmed down. She just nods and slips out of the kitchen, then sneaks out the back door of the house.

She flees to the Cathedral and stuffs herself into one of the nooks at the top of a tower, nestled among saints and sinners. Completely quiet and empty up here, nobody else to worry about, nobody in sight, nobody to see her.

This will be fine. Two years. Harriett can handle two years. She and Lucy will return to New York and Harriett will arrange so they don’t meet back up with Jacques for at least three, maybe four, years. Five, just to be on the safe side. He’ll be back to normal by then.

Everything will be fine.

* * *

One year later, they receive a letter from Jacques informing them that James has been turned into a vampire. They’re not breaking up. Neither of them is ever going to die. Two years just became forever.

Harriett burns the letter and takes out her bloody rage on New York City for two weeks until Lucy manages to restrain her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacques: is happy and actually cares about someone.  
Harriett: Are you HAUNTED? Are you fucking POSSESSED? You used to be my BROTHER!


	3. Lucy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of violence, someone being burnt to death, and torture.

**New York, 1935**

Lucy is a weapon.

Jacques points her in a direction and she kills. Or maims, or scares, or does whatever needs to be done. No leashes, no restraints, no holding back.

_Disrupt the Mafia operations in New York, _Jacques had ordered in a recent letter. _Use any means you feel is appropriate. Try not to get caught. Check your targets with Greed first, but otherwise just aim to cause maximum chaos. Those fools are starting to get a little too peaceful and comfortable._

Lucy and Harriett immediately start to plan. Lucy eagerly points out properties they could burn down. Harriett starts compiling a list of assassination targets and Lucy does the same, only her bloody work will take longer and she _might _leave a few of her victims alive to tell the tale. Mix it up a little and use word of mouth in their favor.

They get their list approved by the Greed department. Gluttony objects to one underboss, saying they’ve got a deal where they’ve convinced him to spend all his money at a whorehouse. That’s fine, they have plenty of other people to choose from. They’re good to go.

Harriett does a few first to start off slow. It works. The Commission starts making inquiries, not directly accusing each other but implying suspicion all the same.

Then it’s Lucy’s turn. She beats an advisor to death in an alley and flits away right before his reinforcements arrive. She sets an important front on fire and delights in watching those arrogant mob fucks scurry around trying to put it out while simultaneously hiding their _real _business when the fire department and police arrive.

Now, time for the first one she’ll leave alive to spread gossip. She kidnaps three captains of three different Families. Kills one quickly just to set the mood. Then she slowly and painfully ruins the other one: breaks fingers, does delightfully gory things to eyes and ears and toes and nails, then finishes by shattering his ribs so that one punctures the poor man’s lungs, grinning while he chokes to death on his own blood.

She leans over the last man. He’s shaking and staring up at her, terrified.

“Aw, cute,” Lucy says. “You think I’m going to kill you. No, my good man, I’m just going to leave you to tell all your little friends about our fun afternoon.” She pats his cheek. “You just tell them who did this, okay? Except you’re going to lie because that’ll be even more fun.” She names a different Family. “They did this, remember? If you don’t remember right I might have to come find you and refresh your memory.”

He frantically nods. Coward.

Lucy breaks his knees to give the threat weight, then skips out the door. She makes an anonymous call to a phone number she’s not supposed to have, then sits back and enjoys the chaos. People start accusing. Hits are made.

The Commission is furious, confused, at each other’s throats with the rage of vengeance. Half of Harriett and Lucy’s work is being done for them. Everyone is denying that they’re the ones who started it, and they’re all pointing fingers at the others.

But one of the Families is causing a problem: they’re not stupid. They’re not retaliating against the others, instead actually trying to find someone from the outside who could be trying to frame them. Too smart. Too close to the truth.

This requires something bigger.

Harriett and Lucy break into the headquarters. They quietly subdue the boss and tie him to his own office chair. Lucy douses him in gasoline and tosses a lit match into his lap, then waits for the _real _fun to begin.

The office is a perfect funnel. Lucy makes short work of those who run to their leader’s aid as he writhes and wails. Fire is a slow but beautiful way to die. It makes even the most stoic of men sing like sparrows. Once the pile of corpses starts jamming the door, Harriett gets the frantic mafia members from behind.

Most are smart enough to run. Lucy liberally applies more gas to the situation and soon the whole building is ablaze.

The adrenaline, the flicker of flame in the corners of her eyes, and the echo of the dying man’s panicked shrieks stay in her head for a long time. She turns the memories over like she’s flipping through a scrapbook of sensations. She doesn’t talk to Harriett about it. Harriett doesn’t remember things like that, wouldn’t care.

Harriett just wants to succeed. She wants the taste of victory and she wants to relish in the feeling that she’s better than everyone else. She doesn’t care about having fun or making people fear or doing something creative. Lucy likes fire for its effect. Harriett likes fire only because it’s _effective._ As long as she wins, she’s happy (and wasn’t this romp a good distraction from her frustration and grief over the last string of awful failures, of experiments that tore themselves to pieces within a day of summoning?).

Harriett forgets about the details, but Lucy holds them close and relishes every moment.

* * *

**Bleston, 1957**

Lucy swings her bat for the finishing blow on the poor sap in front of her. She’s halfway into her swing when Jacques darts in front of her to get a better angle on his own target.

“Watch out!” Lucy yelps. She tries to correct but there’s no stopping her when she’s going in a for a kill. She slams Jacques on the back of the head with full force.

He crumples to the ground.

Oh _fuck. _

Lucy steps over him and finishes her original work. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Harriett take care of Jacques’ target. Lucy swallows hard and slowly turns to view her own accidental victim.

Jacques is out cold on the concrete of the alley. Lucy turns him over and gently removes his broken glasses. He’s still breathing but he’s not moving. She shakes him but he doesn’t stir.

“Lucy…” Harriett kneels next to her. Her eyes are wide.

“It – it was an accident,” Lucy stammers. She just hit _Jacques. _“What kind of maniac gets in front of me in a fight?”

“Let me try to heal him a little.” Harriett touches Jacques’ temple and a small pulse of energy transfers into him. He doesn’t respond to it. Neither of them are any good at healing people. Normally they’re making people need to be healed, not the other way around.

Sirens start blaring from down the street. They’re distant but getting closer. A bystander must have called the police.

“Uh-oh,” Harriett looks around. “We need to get out of here.”

“We _walked _here,” Lucy whines. “We can’t walk back carrying an unconscious man.” They’re a fifteen-minute walk from Jacques’ house, and even further than that to the Org. They’d get arrested for sure if they tried to walk back in broad daylight. They can’t hail a cab, not when the police are out looking for them. They could try breaking into a car but neither of them know how to hotwire one, and neither are good drivers.

They don’t know anyone in the city, especially not someone who risk going to a murder scene to pick them up. They have those connections back in New York, but nobody’s that loyal to them here.

Harriett is already scooping up Jacques’ unconscious body in preparation for running. Jacques – that’s it! Lucy has an idea. It’s desperate and unpleasant, but it could work.

There’s no one here who is loyal to Harriett and Lucy, but there is somebody in the city who would be more than willing to rescue _Jacques. _

“You hide, I’ve got an idea.” Lucy leaves a confused Harriett and jogs across the street into a nearby drugstore. She rushes to a payphone, dials a number, and crosses her fingers.

A few rings before an answer.

“Hello?” James sounds confused.

“James, it’s Lucy.”

“What? Lucy-”

“This is an emergency.” She keeps talking over him. “Jacques’ been injured. We need you to drive to the corner of South street and Tower Street. Right now. Park behind the drugstore. Don’t be suspicious but come as quick as you can.”

“O-Okay,” he stutters. “I’m on my way.”

She hangs up and meets Harriett halfway across the street. The sirens are getting closer. Lucy leads them around the back of the drugstore and behind the dumpster. They can’t be seen from the road. Hopefully that will buy them enough time.

A few minutes pass. The police get closer. Lucy bounces her leg and wrings the hem of her skirt between her fingers. Where is James?

A plain black car takes a sharp turn into the parking lot. It hastily and badly parks. James sticks his head out the window and spots them.

“You called _James?” _Harriett hisses. “To drive us away from a bloody crime scene?”

“Did you have a better idea?” Lucy snaps. “I got desperate. Now come on.” She helps Harriett carry Jacques to the car and opens the back door to dump him on the backseat. She clambers into the passenger side while Harriett stays in the back.

James, to his credit, doesn’t ask any questions. He pulls out of the parking lot and drives at a normal speed down the street. Lucy looks out the back window. Police cars are parked at the scene of the crime, but no alarm is raised as they get away.

“Are you all o-okay?” He asks. His hands on the steering wheel are shaking but he’s keeping a veneer of calm.

Lucy waits for Harriett to answer. Harriett doesn’t say anything so Lucy sighs. “We’re fine,” she says. “But someone got the drop on Jacques and knocked him out. He’ll be fine but he’s down for the count right now.”

James nods and keeps his eyes on the road. Lucy looks back at Harriett and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Harriett still looks a little shaken. It’s hard to tell, but Lucy has known her for an exceptionally long time. She’s got a cornered look in her eyes. She’s itching to hide but there’s nowhere to flee to in this small space.

Lucy doesn’t blame her for being a little freaked out. Their boss just got knocked unconscious and they were left in a potentially dangerous situation with no backup. And now they have to rely on someone who they both hate. The only reason they’re all tolerating each other in this car is because of their shared connection.

James adores Jacques and will do anything for him. Lucy and Harriett have an obligation to Jacques as his employees and pseudo-sisters.

They make it to Jacques’ house. Still the same manor after all these years. Well-kept but with the same outdated Victorian style. James parks the car in the garage and trots ahead of them to open the back door.

“You can put him in the bedroom,” he says. “A-Are you two staying?”

Harriett shrugs and looks at Lucy. “We should at least stay until he wakes,” she says.

“W-Well, um, would you like some tea?” James wrings his hands. “Or I think w-we have some coffee as well, whichever you w-would like-”

Lucy raises a hand and resists the urge to snap at him to shut up. “Yes, James, that’s fine.”

He scurries into the kitchen. Harriett and Lucy drop Jacques in the bedroom. Harriett slinks out of the room, leaving Lucy alone. She sits on the edge of the bed and stares at Jacques.

She’s never seen him sleep. He’s never been knocked out in a fight before, so this is the first time she’s ever not seen him awake.

Jacques doesn’t look like a demon like this. When he’s awake there’s always a fire behind his eyes that betrays his nature. A simmering temper, a banked blaze always on the verge of flaring up. His eyes are closed now and the fires are out. Like a blacksmiths’ shop abandoned in the wake of some great disaster: eerily quiet and cold. Just ashes.

A tray is placed on the bedside table. Lucy startles, lost in her thoughts.

“Here,” James whispers. He hands her a steaming cup of tea.

“He’s not sleeping, you don’t have to whisper,” Lucy says at a normal volume. She takes the cup of tea.

James isn’t quite sure what to say to that. It wasn’t a very nice response, so he settles for ignoring it. He sits on the bed and puts Jacques’ head in his lap, then takes his own cup of tea.

Lucy wonders if it’s too late to just walk out of the room. That would be extremely rude, but how much would James actually care? He probably feels as uncomfortable right now as she does. Last time they met, it went awful. And then Lucy filed a complaint with HR about James. And last she heard, he knew that she did that. And he knew she was a demon.

All that makes this an awkward silence. Lucy stares down at her cup of tea. In the reflection of the liquid her eyes look big. She doesn’t like not knowing what to do.

Here’s what she’ll do: get the Hell out of this room. She stands and puts her untouched cup of tea on the table. James quietly clears his throat.

“Lucy.”

She doesn’t turn. “What, James?”

“It – it’s not your fault.”

This makes her turn with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

James runs his fingers through Jacques’ hair. He’s not looking at her, but down at the bedspread instead. “Jacques is tough. There are few things that could knock him out like this, and even fewer that he wouldn’t see coming. I – I’m just saying-”

“Yes?”

“He’s too reckless,” James says. “If he wasn’t paying attention and got hit by you, that wouldn’t be your fault. And – and I wouldn’t tell.” He shrugs and frowns. “You look very guilty, Lucy. Don’t worry about it.”

James is way too smart for his own good. And too nice, and too observant, and if he were anyone else Lucy would take great pleasure in teaching him that it was dangerous to be that way.

She raises her chin and gives a sniff of disdain. “Stop being so fucking silly,” she retorts, risking the attitude while Jacques isn’t here to object to it. She turns on her heel and leaves, slamming the bedroom door.

Lucy finds Harriett in the kitchen perched on a counter. Her shoes are kicked under the kitchen table and she’s cradling a cup of hot chocolate. A pilfered tin of cookies is on the counter next to her and one cookie is half-sticking out of her mouth. There are several candy and cupcake wrappers on the counter next to her bare feet.

“Did James give you those?” Lucy asks. Harriett shakes her head.

That gives her an idea. She’s got some time before Jacques wakes up. She should take the time to fuck something up in his house.

She switches the sugar and salt. Switches the mayonnaise and yogurt. Changes all the clocks to be different times. Finds some abandoned alarm clocks and sets them for random times, then hides them in obscure places for maximum annoyance. She glues the telephone receiver to the base. With the help of Harriett, she hides lots of small items on top of cabinets and behind the fridge. She is halfway through taping all of his bottles and containers shut when she hears voices from the bedroom.

Lucy is innocently sitting in the kitchen with Harriett by the time Jacques comes out of the bedroom to debrief on their exciting afternoon.

* * *

**The Org, 2019, one day after Lucy almost died**

Lucy is starting to go slightly stir-crazy. This is the second night that they’ve spent holed up in the Org per Jacques’ orders.

She’s sitting in the conference room with her feet up on the table. Cecilus is sitting on the chair next to her trying to get a tricky vision spell right. Lucy gives him tips once in a while, but otherwise leaves him to it. Quick learner and a good apprentice: he’s got a surprisingly sharp mind for a human, and he’s got the slow-burning temper to motivate him.

Harriett is sitting on the conference table reading a book. But her eyes keep unfocusing. She hasn’t turned a page in five minutes.

“Cecilus, go take a break,” Lucy quietly orders. “Check on Jacques when you get a chance.”

“I think he’s still trying to call his boyfriend,” Cecilus says. “It sounded like he’s moved on to the ‘leaving embarrassing weepy voicemails’ stage of that plan.”

Lucy frowns. “James isn’t picking up? He usually doesn’t straight-up ignore all of Jacques’ calls, even if they’re fighting. A safety thing, you know, just in case.”

Cecilus shrugs. “Hell if I know. He just told me that James isn’t answering.”

“Hm.” Lucy waves a hand. “Well, just go take a break or something. Give your eyes a rest, that spell will do a number on them if you’re not careful.”

She waits until he’s left before leaning towards Harriett and lowering her voice. “Hey, Harriett. We had Cecilus heal James after I hit him, right? He’s fine, right?”

Harriett startles and Lucy has to repeat the question. “Yeah, plus you didn’t hit him that hard,” she whispers. Her fingers tap on the cover of the book. “I’m sure he’s alright.”

“Are _you _alright?” Lucy asks. She doesn’t normally care, but an unsteady Harriett is an unreliable partner.

Harriett sets aside the book and wraps her arms around herself. She shakes her head no.

“Is this about Caradoc?” Lucy guesses. Harriett nods. “Harriett, you know you had to kill them. You didn’t have a choice. And – and they’re fine somehow, isn’t that interesting?”

She shrugs and brushes hair behind her ear. “But what if they didn’t come back?” she whispers. “I made something wonderful and unique and I almost destroyed it. Caradoc is irreplaceable, Lucy. I don’t know if I could stand knowing that I was the one to end them.”

“It was them or me.” Lucy reaches out and puts a hand on Harriett’s knee. “Now pull yourself together. Caradoc is fine. You could kill them again and they’d be fine. Forget about it.”

“Yeah, okay.” She sits up straighter. “Yeah, you’re right. How are you doing?”

“Fucking hurts,” Lucy admits. “It feels like I can’t breathe. Like what humans describe as asthma, or sleep paralysis where something’s sitting on my chest.” She rubs her sternum. “And every so often I get dizzy. I think – I think something is seriously wrong, Harriett.”

“Have Jacques take another look at you,” she suggests. “Or his apprentice. Maybe she’ll know.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Lucy sits back in her chair and enjoys another few boring hours of playing every time-waster mobile game. She wishes she’d gotten in the habit of sleeping or reading.

Hours later, Lucy hears the front door of the Org open upstairs. She stands and frowns. She hadn’t heard anybody leave. Cecilus and Harriett are both back in the room with her. When she goes into the hall, she sees Stacey in the library room. It sounds like Jacques is still in his office. So who could be coming into the Org?

Someone is quietly walking down the stairs. One person, from the sounds of it. Lucy raises her bat and waits at the bottom of the stairs. She whirls around the corner ready for a fight.

It’s just James. He yelps from surprise and nearly loses his footing on the stairs. Very narrowly grabs the railing so he doesn’t smack his head on the wall.

“Oh, it’s just you.” Lucy rolls her eyes and throws her bat to the side. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“I – I’m here to talk to Jacques.” James avoids her gaze and tries to edge around her on the stairs. He looks paler than usual and like he’s on the brink of tears. “W-Where-”

“In his office.” Lucy steps back and lets him pass. She goes back into the conference room and starts sharpening all of Harriett’s knives. She has to put earbuds in when James and Jacques start yelling at each other. A bad fight, then. This will take a long time.

It lasts at least two hours. Their voices quiet down but then they move to the hallway at some point: it sounds like James is threatening to leave forever if Jacques doesn’t do this and that, and so on. Finally _(fucking finally) _it sounds like they’ve come to some kind of agreement.

Jacques comes into the conference room a few minutes later. He looks tired and frustrated. “Lucy, a word in my office,” he snaps.

“Okay?” She follows him into his small office. He closes the door behind her and gestures for her to sit. She warily lowers herself into a chair, keeping one eye on Jacques as he circles her. There’s something off about his attitude. He’s far angrier than he looks.

“Lucy, I have a dilemma.” Jacques says. He crosses his arms and glares down at her. Lucy wishes she hadn’t sat down so they’ll be on the same level. “See, I’d like to believe everything everyone tells me. I’d like to think that people aren’t in the habit of lying to my face. You tell me the truth, Lucy, don’t you?”

She nods.

“Here’s the problem, Lucy. I’m under the impression that James isn’t a liar either. In fact, in general he probably lies less than you do. He’s got a more honest face. And he said some fucking _interesting _things just now. Things that contradict some things _you _said to me.”

Oh _no. _Lucy grips the armrests of the chair. “Jacques-”

“I wasn’t done. Don’t interrupt.” He starts circling again. “Now, Lucy dear, tell me again what you said happened in the bookstore earlier. Start at the part where you go down to the safe room. Go ahead.”

She clears her throat. “We – Cecilus cleared the door for us. We went down and H-Harriett restrained James while I took care of Sonya.”

“Did you hurt James? Either of you?”

Lucy winces but shakes her head. “No. Harriett – she didn’t have to use much force to hold him back.”

Jacques puts a hand on her shoulder from behind and Lucy jumps. “Well, see James said that you hit Sonya and then hit him too and knocked him out. Weird, isn’t it, how that is the complete opposite of what you said happened? Funny how those little details get muddled in the retelling.” He squeezes her shoulder hard. “How about you think over your cute little story, Lucy. Try it again.”

“He heard us coming and tried to warn Sonya,” Lucy confesses. Fuck it, Jacques knows now that she was lying. “Harriett managed to grab him, but he almost got away from her. He would have ruined the whole thing. I didn’t want to but I had no choice, Jacques. I tried to be gentle and we had Cecilus heal him a little too. It – it’s his own fault for being-”

“For what?” Jacques hisses. “Explain to me how you hurting him is somehow _his _fault. Explain how my sweet James could have posed any real danger to you.”

She knows enough to shut up at that tone of voice. Jacques circles around in front of her.

“There’s nothing more I want to do than kill you, Lucy.” Jacques snarls. “You have fucked up and caused me so much trouble this week. You go too far and almost kill someone I _explicitly _told you to keep alive. You fail in killing the one damn target you _did _have! You almost get _yourself _killed in the process. You hurt someone you aren’t supposed to even touch, and on top of all that you lie to me! Twice! Do you think I’m a fucking _idiot?”_ His voice rises until he’s nearly screaming at her.

“Jacques-”

“Shut up!” He reaches into his pocket and draws a knife. Lucy bites her lip. “I should put you out of your misery for any one of those things. Unfortunately, I promised _mercy _today. So enjoy your mercy.”

He surges forward and stabs her before she has time to scream at how unfair he’s being. It embeds in her left arm with the force of a punch. Jacques follows it up with a blast of frosty magic down the blade.

Lucy’s body drops five degrees in two seconds. She clutches her arm and starts shivering. Clamps her teeth together and almost blacks out as the contrast between the hot blood spilling over her fingers and the ice-cold blood in her veins sends her into a brief state of shock. _At least it’s not fire, _she consoles herself. _Jacques gets nasty with fire._

Jacques leans in close and seizes her hair, forcing her to look up at him. His fingers brush her scalp and it’s like spikes of burning embers. “Next time I _will _kill you, mercy or no,” he whispers. “I would advise you to do everything you can to make sure there is _not _a next time, Lucy. Is that clear?”

“Yes Sir,” she forces through chattering teeth. Jacques is her boss, she remembers. He’s put on an air of lesser authority here that she forgot. Up here he’s her brother. Her partner or her equal, but he’s not dangerous like he is down below.

How foolish of her to think that. How idiotic of her to forget who he really is.

“Good.” He lets her go. “I’ve got business to attend to with Harriett. You are not to be healed until I come back.”

She shakily stands and nods. It’s infuriating to feel weak like this. Her chest hurts and her lungs burn as if she was trying to breathe in sub-zero temperatures.

Lucy flees from the office and back into the conference room. She collapses into her chair and slaps away Cecilus’ offered hand. “No healing yet,” she mutters to him. “I’m fine-”

“Lucy-” Harriett looks worried too. She recognizes the knife still in her arm.

“Harriett.” Jacques is in the doorway. “You’re with me. Stacey, Cecilus, Lucy, you all stay here. James, dear, I’ll be back soon. Stay here in the meantime if you’d like.” He stomps out of the room and up the stairs.

“I’ll be fine. Really,” Lucy insists when Harriett hesitates. “Go. Jacques is in a mood, you don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Harriett nods and slips out of the room. Cecilus tugs at her sleeve again.

“Ma’am-”

“Shut up, Cecilus,” Lucy snaps. “I don’t want to talk about it. Jacques will heal me when he gets back. Leave me the fuck alone in the meantime.”

He gets the message and falls silent, scrolling through the news on his phone. Lucy glares at the ceiling and shivers. Jacques’ magic is fading, but very slowly. Her arm is starting to hurt again.

Twenty minutes pass. Stacey pokes her head into the room carrying two cups of hot chocolate.

“I was making some for James and had extra,” she says. Gives one cup to Cecilus and the other to Lucy. She reaches out a hand and hesitates, asking permission in her eyes. Lucy nods. Stacey has a good head on her shoulders and despite the extended time she’s had a deal with Jacques, his attitude hasn’t rubbed off on her.

Stacey sets a hand on Lucy’s shoulder and the pain dulls. Nothing heals, but at least it doesn’t hurt anymore. She also feels herself heat up a couple of degrees until she only feels mildly chilled and not like she’s about to turn into an ice cube.

Lucy doesn’t thank her and Stacey doesn’t seem to expect it.

“I’ll try to keep Jacques busy for a couple of days so he’ll get off your back,” Stacey quietly says. “I’ve got a couple of things in mind that can distract him and brighten his mood.”

“Good luck.” Lucy shrugs her shoulder away. Sometimes people in this dumb town were too nice. Stacey leaves the room and Cecilus leaves too after a few minutes. She can hear someone rattling around in the kitchen upstairs.

The prospect of spending another couple of hours sitting here doing nothing sounds miserable. She stands and starts pacing the room. She can’t go anywhere. The last thing she wants to do is interact with someone. Harriett is good quiet companionship but she’s not here right now, and all she has is people she doesn’t want to talk to.

She goes into the hallway. At least here she can pace and stare at slightly different walls.

Lucy peeks into the library room. James is dozing in one of the plush armchairs. He looks less pale but he’s still shaking. And _sleeping, _ew. Lucy wrinkles her nose. Vampires don’t normally sleep. Demons don’t either, though Lucy knows that Jacques has learned in order to keep up appearances back when he actually cared about that.

She entertains herself by glaring at his sleeping form for a good fifteen minutes. She considers a hundred different ways of messing with him while he’s asleep, but discards each one in turn. Some are too violent, some are lame, and all of them would probably bring Jacques back down on her again.

Constraints. Leashes. A whole safe zone of a person that Lucy isn’t allowed to touch. It infuriates her. Don’t do this, don’t do that. Go here, stay away from there. Fuck up Georgie but make sure to not seriously injure Elliot. If you absolutely have no choice but to hurt Caradoc, make sure you hold back. It’s too complicated and ruins the fun. There’s no point of doing something if it’s not going to be at one hundred percent.

If she’s allowed to be a weapon in some contexts and not others, then what is she when she’s just sitting here doing nothing?

“Bored,” Lucy whispers to herself. She sighs. “I’m just bored.”

**Author's Note:**

> Three NPCs from my MOTW campaign from the Wrath department of Hell. Harriett is Lawful Evil, Jacques is Neutral Evil, and Lucy is Chaotic Evil.


End file.
